Not shattered, not dispersed—but cracked, like glass struck by a hammer. Fissures spread across the sphere's surface, and through those cracks, Jaenor's blade penetrated.
It scored across Draelusa's chest, cutting through the illusion of his human form to reveal something beneath—flesh that was wrong, that existed in ways that defied normal biology.
Draelusa hissed in pain—actual pain, not just surprise—and the void sphere exploded outward in all directions.
Jaenor was caught in the blast, thrown backward twenty feet before his wings arrested his motion. His clothing was shredded, his exposed skin showing burns from contact with raw void energy.
But he'd drawn blood. Proven he could hurt a Sin.
"You actually wounded me," Draelusa said, and now his voice carried genuine respect. "No one has managed that in... decades? Centuries? I lose track."
